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Whit's hook #1: "Trust me," Notch purred with a wicked grin. "This will be fun!"
Whit's hook #2: It was late on an early winter's eve when a mist rolled over the Holt, dark and dank and smelling strangely of the distant ocean.
Whit's hook #3: "Come here! Come here!" shrilled Crackle, scrambling full-tilt toward the fishers sitting on the riverbank. "There's a troll in the woods! I just saw a troll!"
Whit's hook #4: "Of all of the lamest..." One-Leg heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You half-witted, crack-skulled, flea-bitten and weak-kneed miserable excuse for a motherless whelp -- what in Burn's flaming pot of piss do you think you are doing with that net?"
Whit's hook #5: When the first keening howl rang out, the chief looked up starkest dismay. When other voices joined that chorus, he dropped the flaking stones he'd held and raced for the river.
_________________ Whitney **send to me at farscout@rivertwine.com**
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